


The Answer is No

by DiYunho



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Joker - Fandom, Suicide Squad (2016), Suicide Squad (Comics), The Joker - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Hugs, Humor, Jonathan Crane - Freeform, Jonathan Crane/reader - Freeform, Jonathan crane/you - Freeform, Post-Suicide Squad (2016), Suicide Squad, The Joker Jared Leto, The Joker Suicide Squad, The Joker dcu, The Joker fanfiction, The Joker imagine, The Joker/you - Freeform, The joker/reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 16:43:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15634656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiYunho/pseuds/DiYunho
Summary: After The Joker refused to marry you several times, he actually had the nerve to invite you to his own wedding. Such unexpected, shocking news would have made anybody else crumble with grief. The Queen of New York wasn’t one of those people: she took it as mockery coming from the man whom she loved with all her heart, an unforgivable insult that could never be redeemed.





	The Answer is No

**Author's Note:**

> You can also follow me on Tumblr under the same blog name: Diyunho.

“Why don’t you wanna marry me?” you had to ask after he declined…again.

“I just don’t want to, woman. Quit pestering me with this nonsense!” The Joker kept on piling up the money you brought to the meeting as a payment for the diamonds purchased from him.

“Is it because I’m not very pretty? Is that the reason?!” you kept on going, upset about the repeated rejections. “I know I’m not a stunning beauty, but with make-up I look decent, ok? Don’t expect me to do any plastic surgery, it’s not going to happen!” you pointed out even if he didn’t say anything. “What you see is what you get: I’m aware I don’t have the best body out there, I have to wear Spanx in order to tame some of my curves. I mean, it could be worse so I don’t understand why you don’t want to get hitched!”  
J rolled his eyes, annoyed he had to listen to this crap more often than necessary.

“Are you done?!” he growled, hoping the rant will end soon.

You answer with another tirade:

“Aren’t you happy that you strike my fancy?! I consider you a very attractive specimen and you probably realize you’re not everybody’s cup of tea. The way you look is not considered…” and a worked up Y/N paused, trying to find the perfect word, “…conventional. Most women would run away scared. ”

The Joker gave you a displeased, cold glare; nothing that was going to stop The Queen of New York though:

“I understand you’ve never been wooed before and you’re not used to it. Just marry me and the rest will work itself out!”

“Listen here, Y/N!” J lost his temper which was nothing new. “You’ve been asking me for months and my answer will never change: it’s NO! We didn’t date, we were never together, it’s strictly business between us; I don’t want to marry you or nothing of the sorts! Do I make myself clear???!!! ”

You bit on your lip, saddened at his indifference:

“A day will come when you wish you would have said yes,” the forewarning words made him snarl:

“Give me a break, Y/N! That will never happen!”

***************

After your father’s unexpected assassination, you found yourself in charge of his empire: the sole heir of all the trades and fortune. The late mobster had Gotham listed as one of New York’s main business partners and that didn’t change with his death.

Due to the nature of transactions and the circles you were involved with, The Joker was a constant presence in your life way before your parent’s demise. You always had a thing for him that kind of grew into sort of a little obsession. Unfortunately, The Clown Prince of Crime didn’t share your feelings; still that didn’t stop you from trying to get him.

You used to send him expensive gifts, the fancy boxed presents accompanied by a short letter containing two words:

“Marry me.”

J would keep everything and sent back the empty boxes containing just a hand written note:

“The answer is no.”

You were so disappointed each time you received the messages and absolutely hated it when your meetings would end up in terrible fights due to both parties stubbornness: The Joker wouldn’t give in and you wouldn’t give up.

One Monday afternoon you got back another empty box from him; it was sent to Gotham over the weekend with a customized, gold plated gun and platinum bullets for his collection. Curiosity kicked in when instead of his usual hand written note the package revealed a purple envelope, extravagantly engraved with your name on it.

You opened it and had to sit down while holding the wedding invitation with shaky hands: The King of Gotham was getting married and you were cordially invited to the event about to take place in two weeks. You had no idea for how long you stared at that piece of paper, but it must have been hours.

Such unexpected, shocking news would have made anybody else crumble with grief. The Queen of New York wasn’t one of those people: she took it as mockery coming from the man whom she loved with all her heart, an unforgivable insult that could never be redeemed.

You declined the invitation, seriously considering severing all ties with Gotham regardless of the partnership. The Joker got really pissed when he received your RSVP.

He actually drove to New York three days before the wedding with the sole purpose of dragging you out of your mansion so you can witness the nuptials. The encounter was short.

“Why aren’t you coming, hm?” J got in your face after you had no problem repeating you won’t be one of the guests.

“You know why!” you shouted, your eyes burning holes through him.

“I expect you to be there, do you hear me?” he yelled back, having the audacity to add: “That’s an order!”  
You straightened your back and hissed:

“New York doesn’t take orders from Gotham!”

J grinded his silver teeth, furious at your reply; if you were somebody else, you would have probably been dead for such affront. He stormed out, not before threatening:

“You’d better be there!!!!”

You couldn’t care less about his visit and ultimatum and didn’t show up at the wedding.

Afterwards, you didn’t go to the meetings anymore: you sent your people to deal with the King of the damned city you now hated. The Joker didn’t try to see you or personally contact you either, enraged at your defiant behavior.

It was very difficult to get over him, maybe the hardest thing you had to do in your 29 years of existence. Ironically enough, the reason responsible for patching up your strenuous relationship was somebody else that belonged to Gotham’s underworld elite: Doctor Jonathan Crane.

After two years of being together, Scarecrow asked you to marry him and you gladly accepted; you truly loved him and both spared no expense for the lavish wedding. The Joker and his wife weren’t invited.

The Clown Prince of Crime showed up anyway.

You were dancing with Bane when you noticed him approach, so easy to spot with that green hair standing out in the crowd.

What the fuck is he doing here? you thought, suddenly tense.

“May I steal the bride for a few moments?” J sarcastically smirked and Bane indulged him despite your fingers digging in his suit, a sign you didn’t want him to let go. The Joker yanked you in his arms, kind of amused at the bitter expression on your face he was greeted with.

“Well Mrs. Crane,” he teased, “is it safe to assume my invitation to your wedding got lost in the mail?” he slowly swayed, careful not to bump into the other guests on the dance floor.

“I didn’t send one,” you grouchily muttered.

“You sure know how to break a man’s heart, Y/N,” J sighed and you called him out on his bullshit.

“You don’t seem heartbroken!”

He laughed at your crabbiness, finding it quite entertaining.

“Do I see a pattern here?” he pointed out towards your husband; Jonathan was seating at a table, talking to Mrs. Joker. “His name also starts with a J… blue eyes, handsome… genius.”

“Don’t flatter yourself!” you kept on looking over his left shoulder, straining to remain calm; he ignored your sentence.

“I brought you a wedding gift. I have to emphasize you didn’t send me one, but considering all the presents you showered me with a few years ago, I can say we’re even.”

“I don’t need your gift! Take it with you on your way out!” you finally gazed at him, indirectly suggesting his presence wasn’t required. The Joker leaned over and whispered in your ear:

“Gotham doesn’t take orders from New York.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the imminent outburst about to explode, but The Joker’s next question caught you off-guard:

“Are you wearing Spanx, woman? Your curves look very tamed in this dress!”

You bit on your lip but he detected the faint smile.

“It’s none of your business,” you frowned again and J smiled, bringing out the past:

“Just in case you were wondering, the answer is still no.”

“I didn’t ask!!!” the aggravated bride made him lift his shoulders up, satisfied at his own cleverness.

“Can I kiss the bride?” he unexpectedly blurred out and didn’t wait for permission: The Joker squeezed you in his arms harder, brushing his lips against yours for a few seconds, pleased you didn’t reject the bold action. “Truce?” he growled when you stared in his eyes, surprising yourself by debating on the peace offer. “Truce?” he insisted, gratified at the victory when the simple phrase confirmed his awesome negotiation skills:

“I’ll think about it…” 

“You’re bluffing Y/N. I know you missed me,” he grinned and you pouted, watching Jonathan tap on J’s shoulder.

“I need my wife back, Joker.”

“Pardon me,” the sassiness emerged. “I was merely offering my congratulations,” the Joker handed you back to your husband, planning to mingle for the rest of the evening.

“What was that all about?” Jonathan pecked your cheek, interested to find out the scoop.

“You know how he is,” you rested your head on his chest, relieved it didn’t end up with an ugly scene.

“Are you friends again?” he caressed the soft skin exposed from under your backless wedding dress.

“We were never friends…” the regret in your voice made Scarecrow chuckle because he knew about the tumultuous history between you and The Joker.

“Should I be jealous?” he taunted and the feisty Queen’s response made him laugh:

“Keep going and tomorrow you’ll wake up divorced!”

*****************

Four months after getting married, you were betrayed: one of your most trusted henchmen disclosed your location to the authorities and you were captured, the infamous prisoner held at the FBI quarters in New York until further notice.

J offered to help with your jailbreak and Jonathan agreed.

The King of Gotham was the one that find you: you barely heard his voice echoing in the dark corridors, difficult to fully distinguish with all the screams, gun shots and explosions.

“Mrs. Craaane!!!! Where are you? Mrs. Craaane!!!!”

“J ?? I’m here! Over here!!” you extended your arms outside the bars and he saw you. The Joker ran and halted in front of your cell, adjusting the toxic green hair with his bloody hands.

“Where’s Jonathan?” you impatiently demanded to know.

“Upstairs. I told him you’re probably down here but he didn’t listen so he’s searching on the top level with your people.”

One of his goons rushed over with the electronic key meant to obtain your freedom and The Joker placed his gun back in the holster, nonchalantly mentioning when he realized you noticed:

“Yes, I’m using one of your gifts; it’s one of my favorite guns. Don’t get any ideas though: the answer is no.”

“I didn’t ask!!” you immediately snapped, irked at his antiques.

He played deaf, disregarding the sour remark.

“We need to hurry,” J grabbed your hand and dragged you after him once the sliding door released what he came for. “We’re moving out!!!!” he yelled as loud as he could and his men surfaced from the smoke that made you cough, following their leader.“Someone go tell Crane we found Y/N and we’ll meet outside in 5!”

“On it, sir!” Frost detached from the pack and sprinted towards the elevator while you stumbled upon the corpses piled up on the ground.

“Careful woman, don’t break your neck; I don’t have time to find The Doctor another wife!”

“Would you give it a rest?!” you clung to him when he helped you step over a huge pool of blood.

“A thank you would be nice instead of attitude!” The Joker sneered and kept on ranting while you wondered why he was there: it’s not like the Clown Prince of Crime to take useless risks unless it benefits him somehow.

The dilemma was solved one week later.

************

You woke up, stretching up a bit and snuggling to Jonathan’s chest with your eyes closed.

“Morning gorgeous. Wanna work on that baby again?”

“We could, but I think my wife and your husband wouldn’t approve,” the raspy voice made you instantly open your eyes. You gathered the sheets around your naked body in a frenzy while J laughed, rolling out of bed with a satisfied grin.

“What are you doing here?!!” you admonished, bugged he has no respect for anyone’s privacy.

“I just came to say hi. Your better half is at the underground lab, preparing a few vials of Liquid Dream for me. I got bored waiting so I came to see you.”

Ahhh, mystery decoded: he needed Scarecrow’s merchandise, that’s why he aided with your escape and that’s probably why he showed up at the wedding with that well-acted truce request. J manipulated things and worked his way up to what he wanted, like he always does.

“Seriously?!” the furrowed eyebrows didn’t make him flinch; The Joker neglected your vexation, not giving a damn about it.

“I should probably return to the living room. The other J (like he seldom referred to Jonathan) will be back shortly and God forbids we have to duel for your honor,” he maliciously snickered at the resentful grimace on your face. “God, woman, you’re no fun to tease. Thank heavens you found a sucker to marry you, hm?” and he exited your bedroom, pleased to have said it out loud: sounded much better than in his mind.

You immediately texted Jonathan not to give The Joker any samples, but you had to let it slide once you found out he offered 10 million dollars instead of 5 million that was demanded: it was clear J certainly wanted the Liquid Dream ampules for a specific reason and you suspected it was probably meant for The Batman. Since you didn’t care about his quarrels and personal feuds, no reason to dwell on such unimportant matters.

*************

Tragedy occurred when you were almost 7 months pregnant with your twins: Jonathan’s cell phone rang in the middle of the night and you turned on your left side, complaining about the noise.

“Y/N, wake up honey,” your husband gently shook you a few minutes later.

“What is it?” you rubbed your red eyes, tired from not sleeping very well with your overactive bladder.

“Something bad happened; we gotta go!”

You don’t even know when you put your clothes on and rushed out of the villa you and Scarecrow owned in Gotham: thankfully you were both in town and not at your mansion in New York.

Frost didn’t really know who to call after the carnage he survived at “Neon Devil” club; it’s not like his boss had an abundance of friends or anything remotely similar to the term. One of The Joker’s meetings went very wrong and ended up in a blood bath: his pregnant wife was killed on the spot, most of the henchmen present at the negotiations dead also, not that the opposite gang had too many survivors either.

The Joker was critically injured, barely hanging on to life by the time The Cranes arrived at the massacre scene. Jonathan decided to move J at his underground lab at the villa because he already had a bunch of medical equipment available in there. You rode in the back of the van with J, trying to patch him up the best way you could while Jonatan was driving like crazy.

The Joker was pretty much unconscious and delirious from the blood loss, but after injecting him with the serum your husband instructed you to administer it sort of seemed he briefly regained control. You kept steady pressure over his chest wound and noticed his lips were moving; your face came close to his and hardly distinguished the words:

“M-my son…is…is…gone…” and you had to wipe the stream of blood gushing from his mouth, panicking when J’s eyes closed and his body started convulsing.

“Jonathan!!!” you shouted at the driver, “he’s going into shock, what do I do??!!”

“Give him another shot!” Scarecrow replied, accelerating to the point of attracting unwanted attention.

*****************

J was in serious condition for two weeks: he almost died yet the genius Doctor managed to save him. Frost calling Jonathan that night was probably the best idea he ever had; conventional treatments wouldn’t have worked with how bad things were. Your husband decided to keep the patient close for a bit, especially since The Joker seemed out of it; after waking up, he didn’t talk, eat or react to anything, completely immersed in his own world. You would take food to his quarters only to come back later and found it untouched. Seeing he’s running out of options, Jonathan started J on IV nutrition for 2 hours every night, hoping the situation will improve.

On a Sunday afternoon you went to The Joker’s room in order to invite him again to eat with you and your husband. As usually, there was no sign of compliance and you offered a bottle of water which he didn’t grab from your hand. But you realized his head followed your fingers and you tried something: you opened the bottle and brought it to his lips, gasping when he started drinking.

You rushed downstairs and reported to Jonathan, then both came to J’s bedroom with your lunch, wishing he would eat if he sees you eat. You tried that before without any success; why not try again?

The Joker just blankly stared at the walls, ignoring your presence and his plate.

“This is really good!” you smacked your lips, enjoying the delicious meal. “Have some,” you urged J and…nothing.

“I heard this is your favorite, Joker,” Jonathan pointed at the stake and mashed potatoes, discretely signaling you.

His wife understood what he meant: you cut a piece of meat and held the fork in front of J’s mouth. You almost smiled when he accepted the food, slowly chewing on the small morsel. Jonathan winked and you continued to eat and feed The Joker also, thrilled at the achievement. Small talk followed between the married couple but The King of Gotham didn’t engage in any way.

After lunch, Scarecrow went downstairs with the plates and you stayed behind in J’s bedroom, quietly watching him.

“Oh!” you suddenly chuckled,” they’re kicking so hard!” and you stood up from your chair, taking The Joker’s hands and placed them on your bump. “Do you feel that?” you inquired, not expecting a reply.

You held your breath when he suddenly pressed his ear against your tummy, carefully listening.

“So you’re gonna have a boy and a girl?” he whispered.

“Yes, I’m due soon,” you announced, glad J spoke and showed interest in something for the first time in weeks.

“Hmmm…” he growled. “Do you…” and he paused for a few seconds, “…do you think my son would have looked like me?”

He heard you sniffle and knew you were crying.

“U-hum,” you swallowed the lump in your throat and wiped the tears menacing to roll down your cheeks.

“Hey Y/N…” The Joker sighed, not certain he wanted to share his thoughts. “Aren’t you grateful I didn’t marry you? You would have been dead right now…A thank you would be nice by the way,” and he went back to listening to your babies, knowing you won’t respond.

That’s how Jonathan found you: The Joker’s head on your bump and his wife caressing the patient’s green hair, obviously upset.

“Everything alright?” he soundlessly muttered when you saw him in the doorway, not wishing to disturb whatever was happening.

You just lifted your shoulders up, unable to come up with an explanation. How could you describe what was going on in your heart anyway?

***************

That evening you decided to drive to the Penthouse in order to get some of J’s clothes; his people (especially Frost) would bring things over but you wanted to search for personal items he might want around. Last time you were there it was about 4 years ago when you had that awful fight while purchasing the diamonds.

You stepped out of the elevator and walked inside the Penthouse, swiftly walking towards the area where the main walk-in closet was. Your feet stopped when you noticed a few details important enough to make you gasp: all the gifts you ever sent to The Joker were scattered around the living room, incorporated with his trademark, over-the-top decorative style. You circled the premises, stunned at the revelation: you had no idea he actually kept everything; The Queen of New York always assumed her presents ended up in the garbage. 

After about half an hour, you forced yourself to search the walk-in closet for objects to stash in your duffle bag. A few boxes were piled up against the racks full of shoes and you opened them, finding a few pictures with The Joker’s wife and some of her jewelry that he would have probably liked to have at his temporary residence.

It was hard to bend and kneel in order to reach for some packages hiding behind the shelves; after all the work they revealed nothing but brand new clothes, more shoes and accessories. There was one more box beyond the racks and you didn’t want to bother snatching it, figuring there’s no point, yet made an effort just in case.

You opened the box and wanted to place the lid back when you saw there was nothing but pieces of paper inside. But the familiarity of the messages got your attention:

“Marry me.”

All the notes you sent to the Joker were nicely organized and you recognized his handwriting under your own: he dated and collected everything almost as if it meant something to him.

Being hormonal didn’t help: it hit you so hard and you cried so much you almost felt sick. To this day, you have no idea how you got back to your house; it’s scary to think you don’t remember driving the car. But you do remember knocking at the guest bedroom’s door.

“J, are you awake?”

“Yeah,” the brief sentence gave you courage to face him in the state that you were in. He was standing by the windows and didn’t protest when you approached and hugged him tight, not saying a word.

“You should stay away from me,” he growled and squeezed you to his chest, grinning when he heard the muffled words: 

“The answer is no.”

The Joker couldn’t let go, not understanding that the reason why was simply because for the first time in his life, what he held in his arms was something he never had before: a friend.


End file.
